Ordinary World
by LittleMagenta
Summary: -COMPLETE- Psychotherapy doesn't cancel destiny.
1. Chapter One

_Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue,  
Thought I heard you talking softly.  
I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio  
Still I can't escape the ghost of you. _

What is happening to it all?  
Crazy some say-  
Where is the life that I recognise?  
Gone away.

But I won't cry for yesterday.  
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.  
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world  
I will learn to survive.

Passion or coincidence once prompted you to say-  
Pride will tear us both apart.  
Well now pride's gone out the window, cross the rooftops, runaway.  
Left me in the vacuum of my heart.

What is happening to me?  
Crazy some say.  
Where is my friend when I need you most?  
Gone away.

But I won't cry for yesterday.  
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.  
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world  
I will learn to survive.

Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed,  
Feared today; forgot tomorrow.  
Here beside the news of holy war and holy need,  
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk-  
Blown away.

Just blowing away.

And I won't cry for yesterday.  
There's an ordinary world somehow I have to find.  
And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world  
I will learn to survive.

Any world is my world  
Every world is my world

_"Ordinary World"- Duran Duran_

**Chapter One**

"Excited, Mr. C?"

"Ecstatic."

Or so he should have been. He had just been released from a mental hospital after three years of therapy. Three years of x-rays and medication; three years of being poked and prodded day in and day out. So why wasn't he as happy as he should have been?

"Here's your coat, Mr. C. And don't forget your medication. It's on the counter."

Of course.

* * *

Two years and ten months before, a 25 year old man with bloodshot eyes waited outside a coffee shop, alone. He didn't know who he was waiting for; he only knew that they had left a letter taped to his door.

"Nny?"

And suddenly he saw the beautiful green eyes and purple pigtails.

"Devi? You actually _wanted_ to talk to me?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Nny. You need help, and it seems like I'm the only person who can get it to you. What's been happening to you - the same thing almost happened to me. But I fought it, Nny. I beat it. You - you're just not strong enough to beat it by yourself. You let it take too much of you."

It should have registered in his mind what she meant to do, but he was too busy staring at her, trying to freeze an image of her in his head. She didn't want him back as he wanted her back, but it was exhilarating in itself that she was speaking to him.

"Are you listening to me, Nny? You need help! You may disagree, but you do. Just make this easy and go willingly."

He said the words, "You called the asylum on me?", but he didn?t truly understand them. His long fingers were creeping towards the knife concealed inside his trench coat.

She had escaped him once. Not again.

She was still talking, but he didn't understand the words.

"Nny? Are you listening to me?" Devi's eyebrows knitted together with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll be fine, so long as you don't leave again."

"Nny?"

"So long as I can have you with me always..."

The silver blade gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting in Devi's eyes.

But she would still never be with him always. Before he could claim her life, he suddenly found himself surrounded by men in white coats. They were everywhere, grabbing his arms, his legs, and his sword. And before he knew it, he was put in handcuffs and pulled into the back of a large truck.

Devi didn't watch as it sped away.

* * *

Johnny sighed, the guard leading him to his doctor's car. The doctor was waiting for him inside of it, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the sound of imaginary music. Johnny climbed into the back seat behind him, and the doctor proceeded to pull out of the parking lot.

"What's this I hear about moving me to the _suburbs_?"

The doctor glanced at Johnny through the rear-view mirror and cleared his throat. "Well, it's just that I don't think city life is very good for you. Moving to the suburbs might be a big help. If not, well, I'll consider moving you back to the city. Until then -"He handed Johnny a piece of paper. "This is where you?ll be living."

"You're sending me to Foster? Rhode Island? What's there to do in Rhode Island?"

"It's a small place, and Foster's very quiet. I think you'll like it."

In a way, it did sound appealing. Silence was what he had always wished for, after all, from the voices in his head and the sniveling imbeciles he kept in his basement that made so much noise. But now he was moving to the suburbs, knowing those people were still out there.

Surprisingly he felt no urge to kill. And he was absolutely alone in his head. When he was taken to the hospital his house was looked through, and both Nailbunny's head and Reverend Meat were confiscated and destroyed. Nothing had spoken to him since.

He now believed that they had never spoken to him at all, rather than controlled by a higher being. Johnny C. now thought of himself as simply schizophrenic. He had believed that from the start, of course, but he didn't believe that was all there was to it.

That was before the doctors and the medication.

Now he had pills for his schizophrenia, which helped greatly.

But there was that one time with the stuffed pig toy from the children's ward...but he knew now for sure that it was all in his head. And that alone comforted him.

The doctor dropped him off at the airport and gave him his ticket. On the plane he was stuck next to a young teen with a crying baby who couldn't be quieted in the least.

It was not a good flight.

Three years ago, the brat would have been slaughtered within the first ten minutes. That was over now. All Johnny could do was look out the window and try to ignore it.

The first thing he noticed about Rhode Island was that there weren't any taxis. Johnny waited on the corner for almost ten minutes until one came. A teenage boy tried to jump in front of him, but Johnny would have none of that. He had lost his homicidal tendencies, yes, but his temper was far from gone. Ignoring his first impulse to shove the boy into the street, he instead pushed him aside easily.

"Bastard," he muttered.

The driver helped Johnny with his bags, and Johnny gave the driver the address to his new house.

"Quaint..."

The house wasn't exactly satisfactory. It was sickeningly clean and tidy, like the mental hospital, except a lot smaller. On the first floor there was a living room, kitchen, and bathroom. His bedroom was upstairs. It was a good size, and the mattress was soft, which he was thankful for- sometime in the past three years he had actually begun _sleeping_ after all.

The basement he didn't care for at all. It was extremely hard to see, and it was a small area with just a simple washer and dryer. No torture devices, no endless levels of darkness underground.

"So very not like home."

But it would have to do. So, going back upstairs and flopping onto his bed, Johnny made up for the sleep he missed on the plane.

"Johnny...Johnny..."

Johnny snapped awake suddenly, hearing the eerie voice calling to him. It seemed to be coming from downstairs, calling to him softly, "Johnny..."

He cautiously made his way down the stairs, and was almost to the bottom when a woman shrieked, "NO, JOHNNY, NO!"

"What the _fuck_?"

Johnny dropped his guard and peered into the living room. The screaming was coming from the TV.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:**

Johnny found his refrigerator already stocked with food. To his dismay, though, there weren't any Frooty Pops in the freezer, and he wasn't in the mood for a fudgesicle.

He was halfway out the door when he remembered, "I don't have a fucking _car_." But there it was, parked near the side of the house, probably dropped off by someone from the hospital while he had been sleeping.

His car. The one thing left from his old life.

Johnny climbed into it, loving the sense of familiarity. He turned the keys, which had been left in the ignition, and started the car.

It was an agonizing twenty minutes to the nearest supermarket, but it was well worth the trip. In the back corner of the store was a whole freezer full of Frooty Pops and frozen things of the like. Johnny stocked up on Cherry Freeze and wheeled his cart to the front of the store.

After he had paid for the Frooty Pops, he planned to return to his home. But on the way back to his car, he happened to glance across the street.

He froze.

A pet shop.

He _could_ use a companion. Maybe a gerbil, or a hamster, or a guinea pig…

Or a rabbit.

And it was a rabbit he chose. And on the way home, as he was trying to think of a name for the creature, the name Nailbunny came to his mind. Johnny quickly discarded the idea, and finally settled on the name Feebly.

The rabbit was a runt, it seemed, and a brown-gray color…like Nailbunny had been. Now that Johnny thought about it, the two did look eerily alike. They even looked at him the same way – as if they could see right through him.

This rabbit, however, would not be nailed to a wall upon its arrival home. It wouldn't even be kept in a cage, rather allowed to run around the house freely. This time, things would be done right.

When he arrived back at his house, Johnny immediately took the rabbit up to his bedroom with him. After Johnny had settled in himself, he opened one eye to watch Feebly, who pressed against his side.

Johnny sighed, content.

"Maybe a normal life isn't so bad."

* * *

He woke up to the feel of a soft, warm body resting on the top of his head. He looked outside – darkness.

An odd feeling passed over him, which he brushed off as paranoia. Still, though, something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Johnny clutched Feebly to his chest and walked down to the first floor. The quietness of the house gripped him, making him actually afraid.

On an impulse, he opened the front door – and almost screamed.

Two bodies lay dead on his front steps. Two teenagers. One, the teen mother from the airplane; the other, the boy who had tried to beat him out for the taxi. Somehow Johnny knew they were a couple, the girlfriend having flown in to meet with her boyfriend. It just seemed obvious.

They were a sickening sight. Johnny noticed the boy's hands gone and missing, and the girl's body almost split in half, with some random parts removed.

Johnny rushed back inside and called the police immediately.

The bodies were cleared off his porch by three in the morning. After the police were through with questioning Johnny, they advised him it would be best to step out for a little while, take a drive, while the remaining mess of blood was cleaned up. Johnny left Feebly up in his room and set off.

He drove on until he was far down in southern Rhode Island. There were hardly any cars on the street, but a few women were scattered around on the sidewalks. Johnny tried not to look them in thee eye, as they made him extremely uncomfortable, but it was impossible to avoid their gaze entirely.

"I've got to get out of here…"

Johnny pressed his foot down hard on the gas pedal. The car, in response, sputtered and stopped moving altogether.

"Fuck."

There wasn't a gas station in sight, and no one who seemed would be able to help him. He was alone in southern Rhode Island with a broken down car and a bunch of hookers.

"Well, well, well, darling, what might you be doing here at this time of night?"

"N-no, you don't understand, I – my car – "

"Hush now, why don't you tell me all about it back here, in my office?"

"No, really, I – "

"Come on, you're not too bad looking. $40 an hour, what do you say?"

Johnny got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. "Like fuck! My car broke down and I just want to go home! Now get the hell out of my day, _you dirty fucking WHORE_!"

The hooker, used to this sort of thing by now, was not fazed. With a shrug, she returned to her street corner.

Johnny didn't have anywhere to go. He had no way of getting home and was being eyed by hookers. If he walked on to look for help, in this part of town, he wouldn't be surprised if his car got hotwired and stolen. But if he stayed, he could be there all night.

Johnny took a deep breath. "It's just self-defense…"

In a moment his car was rigged. Upon entering the car, an intruder would be treated to a knife in the ass when he sat down. And if he leaned into the seat, he would find another one in his back. Pressing his foot down on the gas pedal would treat him to a strong electric shock.

Johnny walked on through the streets. It was almost amusing, how there seemed to be not even a bar in the area, just a bunch of hookers and rundown houses.

"You seem lost, pal."

The voice came from an alley nearby. Johnny, careful not to get too close, scanned the area over. It seemed there was a man in the alley, leaning against the wall. The man flicked a cigarette into the street and stepped out into the light.

He was young, around Johnny's age, perhaps younger. He had messy black hair, thin lips twisted into a sort of smirk, and a seemingly yellow glow emitting from his eyes. He wore a trench coat, and an inverted cross around his neck. He walked over to Johnny and held out his hand. The nails on his fingers were long, tough, and sharp.

"I'm Angus."

"I'm…"

"New around here?"

"Well, yes."

"But you didn't expect to find many _hookers_ around Rhode Island, did you?"

Johnny shrugged. "Well, no, not really. It just doesn't seem like the kind of place that would be like…this."

"Oh, don't worry." Angus waved a hand. "It's only like this around the south. And Oniville."

"That's great, but you see, my car broke down."

"And?" Angus lit up another cigarette.

"Well, honestly, I'm not sure what to do. It's my first day here, you know…out in the world. For the first time in a long time."

Angus grinned, the glow from his eyes piercing into the dark night. "I _knew_ it! A psychoward guy, eh? And three years? What were you in for?"

"It's a bit embarrassing, really…"

"Come on, buddy." Angus slapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders. He smelled strongly of cigarettes. "No shame here."

"I was there for schizophrenia," Johnny said reluctantly. "Surely I would have been sent to jail, had I not been 'insane'. I was responsible for the deaths of probably thousands of people. I think I started the killing when I was around 20…it went on maybe five years, I guess…I thought I had to. I thought the situation was out of my control. And I can't believe I'm telling you all this."

"So you were sort of like the Son of Sam?"

"I guess, but the voices only came from inanimate or dead things."

"But, like the Son of Sam, you thought the voices were coming from something maybe…divine."

Johnny arched one eyebrow. "You seem a lot more intelligent than you look."

"I could say the same for you, my friend. I'll take that as a compliment. Now go on."

"Sure…well, I suppose that _is _what I thought. Once, I…I had this dream that I went to heaven and hell. I thought it was real."

"Maybe it was. Haven't you ever had thought that maybe…all these people who heard voices telling them to kill…maybe they were meant to hear it. Maybe it serves a purpose."

Johnny knit his eyebrows together. "That all sounds oddly familiar."

"Just a guess, my friend. Just a guess."

* * *

**Authors Note:** Anyone who can guess why I named the rabbit Feebly gets a cookie. An imaginary one. And yes, the Son of Sam is a real person – his real name is David Berkowitz, and he's currently in jail. He's also my cousin. Bleh. Anyway…yeah, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't usually do too many author's notes… 


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three:**

Johnny got back to his own home when the sun began to rise, content with the knowledge that his car had been towed to somewhere nearby. He had been out all night with Angus, wandering around the city and talking about anything that came to mind. Something about the boy struck him as extremely odd…not that Johnny wasn't extremely odd himself.

What it was…it had to be the smell. Johnny hadn't even realized it was there until he returned home. Mixed with the scent of cigarettes was another smell; a fainter one. It was a nasty smell, like something rotten.

As soon as he got home, Johnny gave Feebly a pat on the head, and took a shower to wash away the scent of cigarettes, and whatever the other smell was. When he was finished, he realized how tired he was, and fell asleep on the couch.

* * *

As it turned out, the nightmare from the past night was far from over.

Johnny awoke to find three hookers piled on top of each other in his bathtub. Their bodies were mangled and bloody, and patches of hair were missing from their heads.

This time, Johnny knew he couldn't call the police. Five murders in two nights, all leading to him. Johnny knew someone was trying to set him up; it was the only explanation. If Johnny called the cops now, they would undoubtedly consider him a key suspect. There was only one thing he could do.

Wincing in disgust, Johnny places the bodies into garbage bags, dragged them out into the backyard, and buried them.

So much like old times. It was almost sickening.

Almost.

* * *

Johnny didn't drink normally, but he had to do something to get his mind off of all that was happening. He walked to the nearest gas station, to where his car had been towed, and then drove off to the nearest bar, where Angus had agreed to meet him.

Johnny opted not to tell his new friend about what had happened.

"So, what should I get you?" Angus asked, slapping Johnny on the back as he sat down.

Johnny eyed the glass in front of Angus. It was full – a refill, obviously. Johnny could smell the alcohol on Angus' breath.

"I don't know," he said. "Surprise me. Just nothing crazy."

Angus ordered something with a name Johnny couldn't recognize at all, which was most likely a good thing. When the bartender finished mixing the drink, he handed it to Angus, who pushed it towards Johnny.

"So," Angus said, brushing a lock of black hair away from his eyes, "Johnny, eh? That would be short for Jonathan, right?"

Johnny stared at Angus for a moment. "You know, I'm not really even sure. I've just always been Johnny. I mean, I had a nickname, so I guess I just always thought of Johnny as my full name."

"What's your nickname?" Angus asked.

"I don't really go by that anymore…"

"Come on, we're all friends here. If it's something stupid, I won't torture you about it _that_ much."

Johnny sighed. "Okay…I called myself Nny."

"Odd nickname." Angus smiled. "I bet your neighbors called you the Scary Neighbor Man."

Johnny's expression darkened. He slowly turned his whole body in his chair towards Angus, the pitch of his voice dropping an octave.

"How could you guess that?"

"That's what _I_ would have called you. Anyways, I've got to go. I'm meting somebody downtown."

"Who?"

Angus grinned. "My dad. I'm sure he's wondering how I've been doing. I just recently took over the family business, you see. He figured it was time to retire. Anyway, I'm sure he'd like me to check in with him." Angus lit up a cigarette before he left, took a drag, and was gone. Johnny finished his drink ten minutes later and headed home.

* * *

Johnny sat on his couch for the rest of the day with Feebly, flipping fervently through the channels on his television. For some reason, he couldn't stand to watch one thing for more than fifteen minutes or less. He kept thinking about the two teenagers, and the three hookers. Feebly's warm, soft body was his only comfort.

He sat there on his couch until the sun went down. And when it did, Johnny slipped into an restless sleep.

* * *

In his dream, he couldn't find Feebly. He searched all through the house, calling Feebly's name, looking under the couches, and the chairs. Finally, after he had searched the whole house, it dawned on him to look in the living room, next to the TV; the one place he for some reason hadn't checked. Feebly was there – or at least his body was. His eyes stared aimlessly and lifelessly, his body limp. A long nail protruded from the rabbit's furry chest.

Astonished, Johnny tore the nail out of his little friend, and hugged the animal to him.

"Why?! Who is _doing_ all this?"

Suddenly, there was a chorus of voices from all around. Johnny slowly lifted his tear-stained eyes to see the room filled with bodies. They covered the walls and ceilings, hung up by shackles mostly, or chains – even nooses strung up from the ceiling fan. They were frightened, struggling, and asking Johnny the same question he was asking himself.

"Why, Johnny…why?"

And then they were gone. And all around Johnny, the walls began to crack. Blood dripped from the web-like lesions. Then the walls began to crumble. As plaster fell to the floor, shattering on impact, hundreds of tentacles crept out from the blackness beyond the walls. They reached out towards Johnny, coated in blood, wrapping around his arms and legs.

"Why, Johnny…why?"

* * *

"Nny! Nny, what the fuck is wrong with you, man?"

Strong arms shook him, and he awoke. It was Angus. Johnny stared at him, confused, as his previously worried expression changed into one that was desperately trying to hold back an outburst of laughter.

"You okay, man? You had me scared for a minute there…your rabbit, too."

Johnny noticed Angus had Feebly cradled in his arm. Feebly's head was buried in his chest. Shuddering, remembering the dream, Johnny gently retrieved the animal and held him close.

"Thanks…what happened?"

"I was just driving by and had nothing else to do, so I figured I'd come over. I knocked a few times and then I heard you fucking _screaming_. I took a look in the window…man, by the way you were thrashing around you would have thought the house was falling down on you. Anyway, I kind of had to break the window to get in here. I hope you don't mind."

Johnny, with a long, deep sigh, fell back into the couch. "Wow…just…wow."

"Anyway, guess I'd better not stay. Maybe you should take some medicine and go to sleep in your own bed. That might help." Angus crushed the cigarette he had been smoking into his own hand without even flinching.

"So then, see you tomorrow, amigo."

Johnny was already beginning to feel tired and lightheaded. "Angus, one of my pet peeves is when people pretend to know a language."

"I'm half Mexican, Nny, not a poseur." He left without another word.

Afterward, Johnny dragged himself up into his bedroom, where he took a sleeping pill and settled into his own bed. He didn't dream again that night.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four:**

When he woke up the next morning, he was instantly hit with a feeling of dread. The house was too quiet; and not even the crickets were chirping outside.

Trembling, his throat contracting in fear, Johnny opened his front door and peered down at the steps.

No dead bodies.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Johnny wandered back into his living room. He flopped onto the couch, studying his surroundings and feeling oddly content. And then he noticed something about the staircase he hadn't noticed before. He didn't know how he had overlooked it – some of the wood underneath didn't match up. One large square of it was a darker color than the rest.

Johnny slowly rose to his feet and made his way over to the oddly-colored wood. He reached out an index finger and pushed on it. It creaked inwards – a door.

He knew it had to be a closet. What else could it be? After all, lots of older houses had closets under the stairs.

He pushed. What was inside was in no way a closet. Rather, the door under the stairs led to yet another flight of stairs. A basement, of course. All houses had basements.

But why was this one hidden?

Johnny carefully descended the staircase. It seemed to go on forever, unwinding. When he got to the bottom, he found himself in an empty, dimly-lit room. There were no windows or doors. A bucket and paintbrush were collecting dust in the corner.

Then, to Johnny's horror, he realized what was in the bucket wasn't paint, and neither was what was on the wall. It was blood, dried brown. There were thin, wire-like cracks running up and down the wall. It was almost breathing.

"It's hungry, Nny."

Johnny whirled around. On the stairs, cast in shadow, stood the figure of a man.

"You really should feed it again soon, or it might get angry with you. You have to feed it, Nny. It's your job."

Johnny backed away in shock, and soon found himself pressing his back against the bloody wall. What the man said was true, he knew. He could feel the blood chipping and the plaster cracking under his hands.

Johnny looked at the shadowed man. "Do I _know_ you?"

Yellow eyes sparkled excitedly in the darkness. "Now, that depends. But there's no time for that now. You have a job to do."

"None of this ever happened!" Johnny cried. His long, tanned fingers wound helplessly through his hair. "I _imagined_ the monster! There is _no_ monster! And there never was! I killed people for no reason!" He paused, and then took a bold step forwards.

"You! I bet _you're_ not even real, are you? Of course!" He took another step forwards, laughing maniacally. "Enough of this bullshit! I know you're only in my head! And I can _beat_ you now!"

He chanted, _'It's not real, it's not real'_ over and over again in his head, but the man never disappeared, and the wall didn't cease to destroy itself.

And then, the man stepped out of the shadows, causing Johnny to almost scream. He was undoubtedly familiar.

It was…

Johnny fell backwards as tentacles wound around his legs from behind.

* * *

It was all a dream. The whole awful experience had been only a nightmare. It took Johnny a few seconds to realize this after he woke up soaked in a cold sweat. The first thing he did was leap to his feet and stand on his guard, waiting for something, anything to attack him.

Nothing ever came.

Johnny sighed and dropped back onto his bed. Feebly was nestled comfortably under the covers, and was sleeping peacefully. Wearily, Johnny glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand – 10:23 in the morning. It was early, in his opinion, but something would not let him go back to sleep. He lay in bed half an hour, tossing and turning before he decided it was time to go out for a bite to eat.

He got into his car and began looking around for the nearest fast food joint, finally settling for the nearest Taco Hell. He picked up three burritos at the drive-thru window, and parked his car in the lot to eat.

While he was biting into his second burrito, he happened to glance in his rearview mirror – and noticed something interesting. A young woman, perhaps in her teens, with red hair, was chasing a slightly older man down the street. She was screaming after him and waving her arms about. Johnny raised an eyebrow and turned around to take a closer look.

"Oh my…_god_." He stepped out of the car.

"Angus?"

He swiftly followed the two down the empty sidewalk, unnoticed. Ahead, Angus took the first left turn he saw, and found himself in an alley. The woman followed, cornering him. Johnny, still unnoticed, pressed his back against the nearest building while he listened in on their conversation.

"Angus, why didn't you tell me you were okay? I thought you'd _died_!" The young woman flung herself at Angus, hugging him tightly. His body stiffened.

"I haven't heard from you in a week! Why didn't you _call_?"

"Listen," Angus said, gently prying the girl off of him. "I think you've got me mistaken for somebody else. My name is not Angus."

"Stop it, I know it's you." The girl ran a hand through his hair, setting a look of horror upon Angus' face.

"No, really, I have no idea who you are…I think you need to go home. You look like you're in high school."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I _am_ in high school! Angus, you know that. Are you breaking up with me? I told you, I don't care if my parents don't like that I'm seventeen and you're twenty. I love you."

This time, Angus roughly pushed the girl off of him. "Look, whoever the hell you are, I'm not your Angus. I don't even know who the hell you're talking about. Your little boyfriend – he probably _is_ dead, in some alley somewhere. Either that or he just doesn't fucking like you anymore. Now go the fuck _home_."

The girl brushed herself off, sniffling quietly, while Johnny slipped back off to his car.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five:**

_He danced around the bar in a drunken daze, smiling and planting a kiss on any girl who walked by. How many drinks had he had? Ten? Eleven? So many more than that? He couldn't remember anymore. In fact, he couldn't remember what bar he was at, or what his own name was._

_An hour later, he found himself up against the wall with a girl. He didn't remember how he had gotten there – he had blanked out, and just come to. _Oh well,_ he figured, _might as well enjoy it.

_Hr lifted her shirt up over her head –_

– _And she screamed._

_Next thing he knew, he was being yanked away by his hair, and fiercely pushed out of a door. Through his hazy vision, he recognized that he was on a sidewalk. And then his knees gave out. Weakly, he crawled around on his hands and knees until he found himself in an alley. He curled up into a ball next to a trash can, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach. And then he heaved._

_He threw up four times, his body trying to rid itself of the poison that was killing it. He reached into his pocket, fervently searching for a cigarette._

_He couldn't even work his fingers on the lighter. After a few tries he gave up and dropped his head to the ground. Before he knew it, more alcohol was pouring out of his mouth. _

_And then he lost consciousness._

* * *

Johnny lifted his head slowly, blinking. What the hell was that? Another dream.

"I am having the most _fucked up_ dreams lately," Johnny said to himself. It was all so bizarre…weren't his pills supposed to be _suppressing_ the weird things in his head?

After a while, he decided a breath of fresh air would be best, and he set out down his street at a fast-paced walk.

What he had seen the day before still disturbed him. Why had Angus insisted the girl had the wrong person? He had even denied that Angus was his name. Then again, the girl did seem a bit clingy. Perhaps he was just trying to lose her.

After a few minutes of walking, Johnny made it out of Foster's woodland area and came to one of the more busy streets. This particular one was scattered with fast food places, so Johnny, not being in the mood for a high-calorie fat-burger, decided to stop at the nearest Wendy's for a Frosty.

Two boys, taller than him, were standing right outside of the Wendy's, smoking. They looked to be legal, maybe recently turned eighteen. They were sharing a cigarette that was burning dangerously close to the end. When it was done, one of the boys stopped it and crushed it with his foot, and then glanced at Johnny.

"Yo, you got a smoke?"

Johnny continued to the Wendy's at a slightly faster pace, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"No, I don't have a 'smoke'. All I want is a Frosty, not help some teenagers with their bad habits."

The boys' eyes narrowed. The one who had not yet spoken stepped forward. He had slightly lighter-colored hair than his friend – a sort of sandy brown. Boldly, he stared Johnny down.

"No smoking for Mr. I'm-So-Cool-I-Dress-In-Black? What's wrong? Afraid you'll get _lung cancer_ or _yellow teeth_ or all that other bullshit they tell you in school? What are you, a fucking pussy?"

"Haha, yeah," the first boy sneered. "I bet he's really a _girl_. A little girl who doesn't smoke because daddy says so. You a daddy's girl?"

"You did _not_ just fucking…"

Next thing he knew, the second boy swung a fist at his head. Johnny swiftly dodged it and leaped to the side, kicking the first boy in the stomach with his steel-toed boot and wrapping his long fingers around the other boy's neck.

"I'll teach you to fucking call me a fucking pussy! I'll make you eat your own goddamn _shit_!"

He and the boy tumbled to the ground, where the first boy attempted to rush to his friend's aid.

"You'll stay back if you know what's good for you!" Johnny growled, his hands still tightly gripping the sandy-haired boy's neck. When Johnny was sure the boy would do as he was told, he flew back into his rage.

"Is _this_ what you're doing with your worthless life? How you waste your time? Do you have nothing better to do than stand in front of fucking _Wendy's_, looking for cheap thrills?"

He was now almost straddling the boy, grinding the boy's head into the concrete. Hands clawed in vain at his own.

"You're a pathetic waste of oxygen, taking up space in this already fucking overpopulated world! If it weren't for _you_, some boy in _Indonesia_ wouldn't be going hungry! But he _is_ and it's _all your__ fault_!"

Johnny looked down, and realized the boy wasn't listening. Johnny hadn't even noticed that he had been slamming the boy's head into the pavement.

He was unconscious. No, he wasn't unconscious, but Johnny chose to believe that to hide the awful truth from himself.

The other boy had long since run away. In fact, there wasn't a soul in sight.

Shaking, Johnny rose to his feet and brushed himself off. A Frosty suddenly sounded better than good.

* * *

Johnny briskly walked home, sipping on his chocolate Frosty. He continuously told himself – "I haven't done anything wrong, I haven't done anything wrong…" The kid had deserved it, the smartass. All Johnny had done was teach him a lesson. He was probably even conscious again by now.

When he got home, he flopped onto the couch with Feebly, relaxed, and turned on the TV. Half an hour later, after watching some ridiculous Spanish novella he didn't understand, he stood up to go to the kitchen for a glass of water.

On the way there, he happened to glance at the area under the stairs.

And a piece of wood that wasn't like the others.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six:**

Johnny was no longer thirsty. Hesitantly, he stepped towards the door under the stairs, not taking his eyes off it as if it might disappear. It did not. The door was still there when Johnny approached it, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

He pushed on the door, and took a step – and found himself on the same long, unwinding staircase as in his dream.

"Oh god."

It couldn't be down there. It wasn't real, there was no way. And yet, he knew that it was. Had he taken his pills?

His heart leapt with joy. He hadn't! It _was_ a delusion after all. So the easiest thing to do, he supposed, was let it happen. Johnny was sure now that there was no danger.

He began down the staircase.

At the bottom, he was greeted with just what he thought he would be – the dimly lit, windowless room.

Calmly, he stepped into the room and looked around. Everything was as he expected. The paint can and brush lay in the corner. The blood on the wall seemed even more cracked and damaged than the last time.

Johnny wasn't afraid.

"I knew you'd return."

"I knew you'd be here." Johnny turned to face the shadow-man with glowing yellow eyes. "But you know what? This is all fine with me! Because I know you're an illusion! I remember I forgot to take my medication today! You're not _really_ there…only in my imagination…with Eff, and Psychodoughboy, and that Reverend fucking Meat…"

"What's happened to you, Nny?" The yellow eyes narrowed in anger. "You used to be so enlightened – a genius, even. Then you got sent to that damn hospital…listen!" He took a strong step forwards. "Those people in the 'psychoward' are being brainwashed to fit society's idea of _normal_! You…just because you see and hear things others don't, that doesn't make you crazy!"

Johnny's eyes widened in fear. "W-what do you mean?"

"Don't you see?" the figure said coolly. "It follows you everywhere. You can't escape your own destiny. You don't have a choice."

Johnny was becoming angry. He was becoming angry because everything the man said sounded so right.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled. "Don't you recognize me, Nny?"

Slowly, he stepped into the light.

"I knew it! It was you…Angus!"

Angus. His one and only friend. Johnny felt betrayed and helpless. How could he?

"Angus…Angus is a shell I found dead in an alley late one night."

Johnny gasped. The dream! In his dream he had fallen and died in an alley.

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but he was promptly cut off.

"Yes, I know about the dream. That was Angus's last memory. I suppose I should explain, so you'll know…you'll know this is all very real.

"I came here to find you and bring you back to reality. I didn't want you to see me as I actually am, so when I saw this man dead in an alley, I decided to take his body. Of course, in doing this I received all his memories. Angus was twenty-two years old. He only told his girlfriend that he was twenty. He began smoking and drinking when he was eleven and did both frequently until the day he died. In his lifetime, he got seven different girls pregnant – the first when he was thirteen. He left every one of them. That is the _real_ Angus."

Johnny dug his own fingernails into his arm. "Then who are you?" he growled.

The possessed body took a deep breath.

"Some people call me the Dark Lord…some call me the King of Darkness…some call me…"

Johnny interrupted, his face contorting in disbelief.

"Juan Diablo!"

The man smirked. "I told you, my father retired. My name…is Pepito Diablo. And I am Satan now. How else could this body have kept from rotting? I sustained it."

That explained the smell. It all hit Johnny in a flash. Covered by the smell of cigarettes was the smell of death. And the girl…the girl who was chasing him must have been his last girlfriend.

"Why couldn't you have just taken another form, like your father would have?"

"Nny, I'm not _nearly_ that advanced yet! My Hellpowers are still developing, you know. These things take _time_!"

Johnny stared at Satan at a loss for words.

"You can't be like other people…you're meant for this. The thing is, you're in the minority. The "sane" ones will refuse to believe it, but it's true. The monster is there to give you incentive, should you ever try and cease to do your duties. Not even your precious medication can stop that."

Johnny buried his face in his hands. "The teenagers, the prostitutes…I killed them all, didn't I?"

Satan nodded his head gravely. "Yes. But you've been distracted lately, and the monster is getting hungry. That's why I felt it was time to reveal myself."

"Well…what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm going to leave this body, and then I want you to use it. After the wall is good and painted, I want you to get in your car and go back to where you came from. It's where you belong."

The body of Angus shook and convulsed. The head swung backwards, the eyes rolling into the head. It crumpled to the floor, still convulsing feverishly, as the mouth opened wide and excreted a sickly, thick gray cloud. Now, standing before Johnny, was Satan in all his hellish glory. The new Devil had messy black hair, much like Johnny's own, with horny curling outward atop his head. The eyes were a glowing yellow. Finally, looking down at the dead body of Angus, Johnny could see the actual eye color – a dark brown.

Satan grinned, a fang slipping over his bottom lip mischievously. "He will suffice for a fresh coat. He's still got almost all of his blood in him."

Satan turned, stealthily glided up the steps, and disappeared. Johnny wouldn't see him for a long time after that.

Johnny sighed, accepting his fate. He felt cold – nothing. Deep down, he supposed, he knew there was no way to escape. The medicine was just an excuse – it was everyone's excuse – to keep their true selves from shining through. It was set to crush deviation.

And sometimes, even, destiny.

Johnny knelt down on his hands and knees and got to work. He squeezed the blood out of the dead Scotsman with fervor, emptying him completely. And he even found himself enjoying it.

Late in the night, Johnny sat back and admired his work. The entire length of the wall glistened wetly, beautifully. It was, really – absolutely beautiful.

Angus was dragged into the backyard and buried. And after a moment of peace, looking up at the stars, Johnny gathered up Feebly and got into his car. With what would probably ever be his only friend sitting on his lap, Johnny began the journey home.

Back to his ordinary world.


End file.
